


Quartermaster Bond

by RussianWitch



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Flirting, Multi, Role Reversal, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-10 11:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: He should be back with the rest of his department, setting up the network and taking stock and inventory, not waiting around for an agent.What if Q was the 00 agent and Bond the Quartermaster?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd

He's going to give Tanner an earful, once there is time to go after the bastard properly. 

James should be back with the rest of his department, setting up the network and taking stock and inventory, not waiting around for an agent. 

They haven't suffered as much damage as the analysts and the administration, but that doesn't mean no-one is hurting. 

He deliberately doesn't think of colleagues turned friends over the years. 

A week worth of funerals, James doesn't want to think about them, thinks about the painting instead, listing all the things he'd need to make a half decent forgery, then a decent one, waiting for the agent he'll have to babysit while getting the department up and running properly again. 

"It always makes me feel a bit melancholy," a boy says dropping onto James' bench far closer than necessary with so few people around, "grand old war ship, being ignominiously hauled away to scrap..." anorak, messenger bag, wild hair and an even wilder, intense expression in his eyes, James takes in from the corner of his eye, over-caffeinated student who keeps on talking even when James looks away making it clear he isn't interested, "the inevitability of time, don't you think? What do you see?" The kid asks outright, scooting right into his personal space. 

"A bloody big ship. Excuse me," he snaps, ready to stand. Whatever the kid wants—James is far from in the mood to give it to him. 

"Quartermaster," the boy says under his breath, "I'm your double-o." He looks delighted with himself. 

"You must be joking!" James sneers.


	2. Chapter 2

In the recesses of the Q branch, a light burns in one of the offices. To get there, Ethan has to cross the main hall, where monitors turn on and off by themselves under the dull emergency lights, and something beeps urgently from behind a reinforced door.

He rather feels like he's stepped into a horror movie.

One level higher, and he'd almost forget that it's long past midnight, with secretaries and assistants running to-and-fro and the sounds of keyboards rattling like machineguns.

Q branch is empty, not even a skeleton crew to be found.

Only the far away light, a beacon—or trap.

Coming back from a mission, it always takes Ethan a day or two to convince himself he's safe. His hands itch to un-holster his gun, just in case, as it's not unknown for intrusions to happen as he makes his way across the hall and down the dark corridor.

Closer he hears voices, a soft murmur of conversation behind the closed door and the clanking of glasses.

Behind the windows, bluish smoke swirls lazily over the heads of two men bend over a scruffy looking chessboard crowded by discarded pawns, a heavy crystal ashtray, two tumblers of clear liquid and a gun.

Bond's glasses have slipped down his nose, his tie is loose and shirtsleeves are rolled up exposing powerful looking, tanned underarms.

Across from him sits a man Ethan hasn't seen before, dirty blond hair, broad shoulders, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, worn leather jacket and trainers.

The man smirks, nudging a bishop forward, plucking a knight from the board with a dramatic gesture.

Bond frowns squinting down at the board, but his eyes still hold amusement.

Ethan had almost convinced himself that he is the only person at MI6 who can make the dour quartermaster crack a smile—being proven wrong, makes him feel foolish. He turns away fighting the urge to turn around and leave, turn in his equipment in the morning when he comes in for the debrief...

The door is thrown open, Ethan is grabbed from behind and yanked back, his hand going for his gun on instinct. He lashes out, his elbow connecting with the body behind him, kicking back in hopes of hitting a knee.

His wrist is slammed against the wall, pain blooming in his knuckles and wrist, as he keeps hold of the gun—

"Alec! Let him go!" James called from behind them, "before he kills you."


End file.
